


understated, overwhelming

by ohjustpeachy



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Fills [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: “I hate to be the one to break it to you, baby, but neither of us can cook,” Tony says, stroking a hand through Steve’s hair.“Hmph.” Steve gives another little huff of disagreement, but he seems content enough to sit like this, face tucked into the crook of Tony’s neck, Tony’s hand in his hair, the other warm on his back.They stay like that a while, neither in any hurry to move.Or, just five quiet moments of affection between Steve and Tony.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Bingo Fills [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601260
Comments: 22
Kudos: 201





	understated, overwhelming

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a prompt on tumblr asking for big Steve getting lots of affection and love! 
> 
> The title comes from the song Float by Harbour.
> 
> A fill for my Tony Stark Bingo card square K4: Story format: nonlinear
> 
> Title: understated, overwhelming  
> Collaborator Name: peachy  
> Card Number: 4017  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683879  
> Square Filled: K4 - Story format: nonlinear  
> Ship/Main Pairing: stevetony  
> Rating: G  
> Major Tags: Fluff, established relationship, domesticity  
> Summary: Just five quiet moments of affection between Steve and Tony.  
> Word Count: 1,286

“I don’t think I’m doing this right,” Steve mutters at the pan in front of him. He’s making them breakfast, and so far it’s not going well, as far as Tony can tell. He smiles, watching Steve from where he sits at the table. 

“Hey, Steve?” He asks, waving him over. 

“What? Tony, I’m—” 

“Just come here a sec,” Tony urges. 

Steve crosses the room in a few short strides, until he’s standing next to Tony, looking down at him with the unmistakable crease of a frown between his eyebrows. 

Tony tugs on his hand and smiles lazily up at him. “Sit with me for a minute,” he says, and Steve laughs, realizing what Tony’s asking. 

“No, come on, I’m making breakfast,” Steve says, hesitation slipping into his voice.

Tony just gives his best pleading face and Steve rolls his eyes, letting Tony pull him down onto his lap, both of them laughing as Steve straddles Tony as carefully as he can manage given his size.

“The chair’s going to collapse,” Steve warns, though he’s wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck as he says it. 

“So I’ll get us a new one,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to the space between Steve’s eyebrows, then to his nose before finally landing on his lips, soft and sweet. “And breakfast,” he adds. “There’s no way that omelette’s going to be edible.” He feels the tickle of Steve’s breath against his neck as he huffs a laugh. 

“Hey!”

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, baby, but neither of us can cook,” Tony says, stroking a hand through Steve’s hair. 

“Hmph.” Steve gives another little huff of disagreement, but he seems content enough to sit like this, face tucked into the crook of Tony’s neck, Tony’s hand in his hair, the other warm on his back.

They stay like that a while, neither in any hurry to move.

*

“Come on big guy, you’re going to collapse on me,” Tony says, taking Steve’s hand in his and leading him into the bedroom. “You’ve been awake for how long now? You need some sleep.”

Steve doesn’t even argue, just mutters something about the pot calling the kettle black. 

Tony laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m an asshole, aren’t I? That’s why you love me, though.”

“I _do_ love you,” Steve says, sounding suddenly serious. 

Something in Tony’s chest softens at this. “I know,” he assures him. “I love you, too. Which is why I will be devoting the rest of my day to making sure you’re well rested, darling.”

“You will?” Steve’s tired eyes go soft in the dim bedroom lighting. It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, but Tony’s pretty sure Steve could sleep for the next twelve hours without batting an eye. 

“Scout’s honor,” Tony promises. He passes Steve a pair of his favorite sweats and an old MIT t-shirt and watches as he slips into them, changing almost robotically. His eyes have dark circles beneath them, and he looks hollowed out, like the last mission sapped him of every last bit of energy. 

Tony slides into bed beside Steve, curling up right behind him, until they’re pressed in as close and warm and Tony can manage, until he’s sure he can feel the last bits of tension easing from Steve’s shoulders. 

“S’nice,” Steve mumbles, tucking his feet between Tony’s. 

Tony runs his thumb through the soft hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, then leans in and drops a kiss to the top of his head. 

“It is,” Tony agrees. 

He’s not sure which of them falls asleep first.

*

Most people think Steve Rogers is a morning person. And he can be, sometimes. But what most people don’t know is how easy it is to talk him out of this behavior. 

In fact, Tony’s learned that all he needs to do is roll over onto him, making it physically impossible to leave their bed, all while making it completely worth his while to stay right where he is. 

“You have freckles on your nose,” Tony says on one such morning. It’s raining out, droplets cascading down the windows, and no one is their right mind should be in any hurry to get up and _do things_ on such a day. And so here he is, laying on Steve’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath, the rumbling laughter he gets after his observation. 

“Mhm,” Steve says. “Are you just noticing that now?” 

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “Just appreciating the view.” He traces a soft line down Steve’s nose, then leans down to kiss the bump that’s right at the bridge. Something about this always makes Steve go just a little bashful, like it’s almost too much for him, and Tony loves those moments, loves that he’s the one who can do that to him. 

He presses another kiss to Steve’s nose for good measure, feels Steve starting to smile shyly up at him. 

“What?” Steve says, trying and failing to divert Tony’s attention from the blush making its way over his cheeks. 

“You tell me,” Tony says, laying back down and pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Nothing,” Steve says wrapping his arms around him. “Let’s just stay like this.” The rain falls around them, and time seems to stop as they lay there, breathing each other in. 

“Good plan, sweetheart.”

*

“I swear sometimes you’re still that scrappy kid from Brooklyn that Bucky’s always warning me about,” Tony mumbles, taking Steve’s battered hands in his. 

He ghosts a kiss over his knuckles, bruised from more than a few rounds in the gym in the basement. “Seriously, you do know it’s just a punching bag and not an actual _bad guy_ , right?” Tony asks. 

“I know,” Steve promises. “It’s just... relaxing, if that makes sense.”

And it does make sense, of course it does. Steve goes to the gym the same way Tony goes to the lab, to work through the things he can’t quite put into words.

“It does,” Tony says, “but that doesn’t mean I like seeing you like this.” He pulls out a tube of lotion, places a quarter-sized amount in his palm, and then takes Steve’s hands in his, moving slowly, massaging his palms and his fingers, working his way down to his wrists. When he looks up, Steve’s eyes are closed, and if he didn’t know better, Tony might almost think he’s sleeping.

“Better?” Tony asks when he’s done, running a careful thumb over Steve’s knuckles. 

“Better,” Steve tells him, opening his eyes and giving him a soft, appreciative smile. “Thank you, Tony.”

*

Tony finds Steve in the living room, stretched out on the couch with a book in his hand. 

“What are you reading?” Tony asks, dropping down beside him. 

Steve smiles up at him and holds out the book for him to see. “ _The Great Gatsby.”_

 _“_ Ah, an American classic for an American classic,” Tony says. 

Steve smiles wryly, “Something like that,” he says.

“I think I read that in high school, but I don’t remember much.” 

“Care to join me? Steve asks. “I read it out loud,” he offers, sounding suddenly shy at his offer. 

Tony nods, and they shift around, Steve laying with his head pillowed on Tony’s lap, the book propped up on his knees as Tony threads a hand through Steve’s hair.

“If you keep that up I’ll be doing more sleeping than reading,” Steve warns, smiling and looking completely at ease at the gentle movement. 

“Then it’ll be just like the last time I read this book,” Tony teases. “But okay, I’m ready when you are.”

He keeps his hand in Steve’s hair, stroking gently every now and then, lulled by the soothing sound of Steve’s voice against the quiet all around them. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me crying about them more on [tumblr ](%E2%80%9DLINK)


End file.
